Black Out
by laynee
Summary: Dick is working undercover and the case ended in the worst way possible. He's left broken, confused and to top it all off, he's come down with the flu. He'll need to rely on his friends and family if he's to make it through the darkness. Rated for content
1. Too Late

Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

Dick sat at the far end of the bar, a half empty bottle of beer in his hand. Roy came through the door, saw his friend and sat down next to him. He waved the bartender for a beer.

"How was work?" Roy glanced over.

Dick shrugged. He had called Roy and simply said that he needed a drink and needed a friend. He said he didn't trust himself to drink alone and didn't want to be alone.

"Tim called me, said you asked him to cover the city tonight." Roy caught the beer that was slid to him.

He shrugged again. "Just needed a break." His voice was low, rough.

"Barbara called, she told me Gordon said that your case ended up bad."

Dick laughed bitterly. "Did she, then I'm sure you have all the answers."

"I don't, and I wish I did." He took a drink of his beer. "What happened, Dick?"

He looked over at Roy, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard.

**Four Hours Previous.**

Dick sat on the bus bench. His earpiece crackled with static and he pulled his sweatshirt hood up. It was nearing the end of a long week of undercover work. A suspected child molester and drug dealer.

"Grayson, you in position." Nate's voice came over the static.

"Yeah. Just tell me when." He lit a cigarette for character.

"Ten minutes."

He stood and walked across the street to the apartment building. He leaned against a light pole and smoked. Another undercover officer passed him, their eyes met for a second, but other than that, they made no other notice of each other.

"Grayson, enter...apartment." Nate's voice broke through static again.

"Copy." Dick walked up the cement steps.

He ran up the flights of stairs to the fifth floor and slowed to a walk. Nate leaned against a wall in front of a closed door. Dick walked over to him.

"We got the order to enter. Perp is inside, possible victims." Nate kept his voice low.

"I'll go first."

Dick pulled his gun from his holster under his sweatshirt. He paused in front of the door, glanced back at Nate and the two officers down the hall and kicked the door open. The scene froze Dick to where he was for a moment.

Lines of heroine sat on the table still, next ot a crack pipe. The perp sat on the couch, a gun in one hand and blood running from his skull. A seven year old boy was sprawled across his lap, the child's eyes were glassy with death. A five year old girl was naked from the waist down, blood ran from her ears, her eyes were closed.

Dick swallowed and leaned heavily on the doorframe. Nausea that was nonexistent a few seconds ago increased suddenly and he wondered if he should step out before he vomited. He swallowed and felt the nausea rise, stronger that it was a second before. Cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He swallowed, the nausea fading. It occurred to him that he nearly blacked out.

"Aw, fuck." Nate whispered, his face pale.

One of the other officers stepped into the doorway. He stepped back into the hall. Dick heard him cough and then a wet splash on the floor. The officers of Bludhaven police department had seen a lot of things, but this was something that none of them would be able to get out of their heads. Even the most seasoned officers would have been sick at the sight.

Dick caught a soft sigh from across the room. He snapped back to his job, his duty to protect.

"Get the coroner in here, call the chief." He muttered.

He stepped into the room, his gun out and ready. He glanced at the bodies as he passed and wished that they had been there sooner, wished that there was something he could have done. He heard footsteps behind him and turned. Nate was a few steps away, his gun out.

Dick held his hand up and Nate stopped. Dick held his breath and listened, his eyes closed. He knelt down and looked into the darkness behind the couch. A four year old girl sat in only her underwear, tears on her cheeks and blood oozing from a gunshot wound on her torso.

He slipped off his sweatshirt and crawled to her. She didn't make a sound, too terrified and traumatized. He carefully wrapped it around her and pulled her close.

"You're okay. Nobody's going to hurt you. I'm a police officer, a good guy." He felt her small arms wrap around his shoulders. "Nate, call an ambulance." His voice was calm.

Dick stood with the girl in his arms. He could feel her blood soaking through his shirt and her body trembled from shock. Her eyes closed and her grip on his shoulders slackened.

He shifted her in his arms and saw the stillness of her chest. He ran to the hall and placed her on the floor. He started chest compressions, her blood covered his hands and shirt. He couldn't stop trying to save her life even though he knew she lost too much blood. He was too late again.

"Grayson." Nate rested his hand on Dick's shoulder. "The paramedics are here. I'm sorry."

The paramedics lifted the girl onto the gurney, checked her for life and pulled the sheet up over her. Dick stood and stumbled back against the wall. He looked down at his hands and felt the blood as it dried.

Chief Addad came up the hall, he saw his officers in the hall, eyes cast to the floor. He went to Dick when he saw the blood.

Dick looked up. "I'm sorry." His voice broke slightly.

Addad rested his hand on Dick's shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

"It's her blood, not mine." He whispered.

Nate came up, his face still pale and his hands shook. "Nobody survived, sir."

Addad looked at his officers. "Head back to the station, get cleaned up. We'll meet in an hour to debrief. I'm sorry it turned out like this."

The officers escaped to the street, the night air hitting their lungs like they hadn't been breathing at all. They piled into the van that was waiting. Dick stood on the sidewalk, his eyes on the street.

"Dick, are you coming?" Nate paused.

He looked over at Nate. "It's twelve blocks back, right?"

Nate nodded.

"I'm gonna run back, see you all there."

"Okay." Nate climbed into the van.

Dick watched them pull away. He took a breath, still felt sick to his stomach, and started running. The night air rushed past him as he sprinted. His lungs burned from the effort, but he couldn't stop. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He could still feel the girl's limp body under his hands, still see her bare skin pale in the light from the hall. He ran harder despite the fatigue that turned his muscles to lead.

He stopped at the steps of the police department and leaned against the cold stone as he caught his breath. After a few minutes he climbed the steps and passed through the doors.

In the locker room he stripped from his blood stained jeans and shirt. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked to the showers. He let the hot water wash over him and saw the water, turned pink from blood, swirl down the drain. His stomach churned and he swallowed back the nausea again. He braced a hand against the wall and let the water run over him.

"Fuck!" He slammed his fists into the tiled walls and felt the pain of impact. "God damn." He whispered as he turned the water off.


	2. Debriefing

Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

Chief Addad stood in front of the six officers. The room was subdued, quiet, tense. The officers were still and pale, images of the room still fresh in their minds. The lifeless eyes of the children, their limp bodies. They hated that a criminal got away, that justice couldn't be served, but they hated more that innocence had been taken away as well.

Addad cleared his throat and leaned on the edge of a table. "I wish that none of us had to be here for this." He paused. "And I'm sorry that this case turned out the way it did. I know you're probably thinking that we should have done something more, I know I am. The fact is, we did all we could and the thing that I hate the most is that it wasn't enough."

Dick's hair was still wet from the shower. He kept his hands wrapped around the mug of coffee to keep them from shaking. He stared down into the black coffee as the chief spoke. He knew that the chief was right, but it did nothing to dissolve the guilt that ate away at him.

He looked at his officers. "I want you all to take the week off, I want you to have time to process. A psychiatrist will be called in if you need to talk to someone, and you can always call me if you need to. I want you all to know that you did your best, no matter what. You handled the situation, went over and above for this case." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry that tonight didn't turn out better. You're free to leave, if you wish, I'll see you all next week."

Nobody moved for a few seconds, the ticking of a clock was the only sound in the room. Finally one of the officers stood and the rest followed. Dick stayed where he was, he kept looking into his coffee as though he'd find answers there.

Addad walked over and sat down in front of Dick. "Grayson, you all right?"

Dick looked up. "Yes, sir."

"Stevens said you tried to save the girl."

"Yes, sir." His spoke just above a whisper.

"There was nothing more you could have done. I'm glad she was with you when she passed."

Dick swallowed the last of his coffee and felt it burn with the guilt in his stomach. He stood. "See you next week."

Addad watched Dick walk out the door. The chief had noticed Dick's drive for justice and protection, and he worried about Dick because of that.

Dick fled to the cool night on the street. He took deep breaths of the damp air and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets so he couldn't see their shaking. He looked up and wished that he could have seen the stars, but the clouds were too thick.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Tim's number.

"Yeah?" Tim's voice sounded young on the other end.

"How's it going?" He tired to keep his voice even.

"Dick?"

"Yeah. Are you up to anything tonight?" He leaned back against the building.

"No. Bruce is away on business."

Dick suddenly felt weary and slid down the wall. "Could you keep an eye out tonight, here?"

"Are you okay?" Tim's voice suddenly lost its carefree tone.

"It's been a long day. Just, just keep an eye out and if something happens, let me know. Could you do that? Please."

"Sure. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, just tired." He paused. "Thanks, Tim. I owe you one."

"I'll add it to your tab."

Dick smiled a little, thankful for Tim's attempt to lighten the dark night. "You do that. I'll call you tomorrow." He closed the phone.

Nate came out of the station and saw Dick sitting against the building. "You all right?"

Dick stood. "Yeah, just tired."

Nate lit a cigarette with shaking hands. "Wish I could just forget tonight, you know?"

"Yeah. Where're you going?"

"Home. Gotta see my wife and baby, after tonight." His breath caught slightly. "I just gotta see them."

Dick nodded, he forgot that Nate had a kid. "See you next week."

Nate nodded and walked towards his car. Dick watched him drive away. He walked down the street to Mahoney's Pub and found himself a seat at the bar. He ordered a beer and called Roy.

--n--

Two hours after Roy arrived, Dick was on his fourth. He was finally reaching the point of intoxication that muted pain and numbed everything. Roy managed to get the facts of what happened and could imagine how his friend was taking it, even though the shake in his hands and the trail of empty bottles were enough. Dick had his head braced in one of his hands.

"Come on, Dick. Let's go home."

"Not yet." He muttered. His head pounded and the room spun a little.

"We'll pick up a case of beer on the way and you can get properly drunk there." Roy pulled out a few bills to cover the bar tab. "Come on."

Dick slid from the bar stood and leaned against the counter to steady himself. He let Roy lead him from the bar and out to Roy's car. He slumped into the passenger seat and closed his eyes. Roy drove through the streets back to Dick's apartment.

He staggered a little as he walked up the stairs. Roy was behind him in case he fell. Exhausted, Dick opened the door to his apartment and slumped into a chair. His head still pounded and his stomach was unsettled, maybe that was just from the room spinning. Roy placed a glass of water on a table nearby and sunk into the couch.

"It was all too late." Dick muttered with his eyes closed.

"You tried, did your best."

He opened his eyes and looked at Roy. "Everyone keeps saying that. My best doesn't get little kids killed, so no, I didn't do my best."

Roy didn't have a response to that. "I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am." He whispered.

Dick stood and walked down the hall to the bedroom. He detoured to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He slid down the wall to the tile floor and drew his knees up. He rested his head on his folded arms. He let himself give into the spinning and the guilt, the sick feelings that radiated from his core. He blamed himself for the deaths and let himself do it.

His phone rang from his pocket. He slipped it out, switched it to vibrate and slid it across the floor. He closed his eyes and saw the girl in his arms, saw the boy, the other girl on the couch. He saw their blood, saw the tainted innocence in their dead eyes. His thoughts spiraled as he imagined their frightened cries, their muffled screams, their silent tears. The phone vibrated from across the room. He looked over at it until it stopped.

He had failed them.

Roy knocked on the door of the bathroom. When he heard no response, he picked the lock and let himself in. Dick looked up at him, his face blank and his eyes revealing the guilt and pain.

"That was Tim." Roy wasn't even sure if he should pass on the message. "He said that he could handle the situation, but he wouldn't mind if you swung by to help."

Dick pulled himself up off the floor. "I'm fine. I'll be there." He picked up his phone as he left the room.

He pulled on his Nightwing uniform and hoped that he would be on time to save someone tonight. Roy watched him leave and almost stopped him.

"Call me if you need help." Roy added just before his friend left.

Dick turned back. "I will. Thanks, Roy."

"Good luck."

He slipped into the hall and disappeared into the darkness of night.


	3. Falling

Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

The night air was damp and heavy as it rushed past Dick. He took the corners a little to fast on the cycle, but he didn't care. He forced himself to focus, forced himself to ignore the alcohol that blissfully blurred him. He had to be alert, the night had cost enough already. Light rain began to fall. He wasn't sure if it could wash away the horrors or if it would add to them.

Dick met up with Tim on top of an apartment building on the more dangerous side of Bludhaven. Tim was concealed in the shadows, only someone who knew how to look would have found him. The rain fell harder, steady now. It always made things more difficult and more dangerous.

"Hey." Dick breathed.

Tim turned. "Sorry to call you out."

Dick shrugged. "What's going on?"

"Possible gang fight, but they're in front of a women and children shelter. I figure if we can keep the bullets to a minimum, that innocent bystanders will be better off. Judging by the numbers of members, I figured a little back-up would be nice."

He nodded. "Good thinking."

"Right now we just watch and wait." Tim glanced over. "You okay?"

Dick nodded. He lied and hoped Tim didn't notice. His head throbbed and his stomach didn't exactly feel that great either. He swallowed and focused his attention on the activity in the ally. The rain muted conversation and sound. It made everything gray and soft on the edges, sort of how his thoughts felt.

The yelling in the ally escalated to punches, which quickly escalated to knives and guns being drawn; just like they figured would happen. Tim and Dick swung down and did their best to break up the fight before it got too fueled on bullets and anger. With a mix of their own fighting skills and a few smoke bombs, the potential situation had resolved to a few guys unconscious and the rest scattered.

Dick leaned against the wall, out of breath. Everything spun around him and he struggled to stay standing and conscious. Tim looked over and saw him as he dropped to his knees. Dick realized he was shaking and then realized that the shaking was actually shivering. His headache sharpened and the feeling in his stomach could be defined more as pain rather than uneasiness. Curling up and sleeping there on the wet street in the ally crossed his mind as a good idea for a few minutes.

Tim knelt down in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Dick pulled himself back up to his feet and lied. "I slipped."

Tim didn't believe him, but also knew better than to press for the truth, especially knowing what happened earlier that day. "Need me to drive you back?"

Dick rested his hand on Tim's shoulder. "No. You're okay to cover the rest of tonight?"

"Yeah. I don't expect much with his rain, even the psychotic low-lifes know enough to stay out of weather like this."

A small smile brushed across his lips. "Thanks."

"I'll call in the morning with the full report." Tim added. "Drive safe."

"Yeah." He turned and left the ally.

Tim noticed the slight stagger and couldn't help but worry. He fingered the call button that would connect him to Bruce no matter where or when. He decided that he could wait and call Roy to make sure that Dick got home okay before he did anything too drastic. Still, Bruce would like to know, Tim knew enough to know that.

Dick swung his leg over the cycle and sat there for a moment. He let the rain wash down his face before he pulled on the helmet. It took him a few kicks to start the bike, he kept missing. Finally he pulled away from the curb and headed home. He didn't think that he could still be as drunk as he felt, he should have been sobering up by now. He was too exhausted to figure it out and wanted nothing more than to be home. It took him a lot more to focus on the road, to keep the painted lines from wavering in his vision and steering while shivering was always a challenge.

Finally he pulled into his parking space and trudged back to his apartment. He wanted nothing more than dry clothes, a warm bed and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Maybe an aspirin or two wouldn't hurt as well.

Roy was sprawled out across the couch with a book open. He sat up when Dick entered. He immediately noticed how pale Dick looked and the near constant shivering. Dick pushed his wet hair back and ran a shaking hand across his eyes.

"You okay?"

He nodded. "I'm gonna get some sleep." He muttered as he passed through the room.

Dick slipped out of his uniform and traded it for sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He couldn't shake the damp chill from the rain. He hung up the uniform, dumped a few aspirins into his hand and downed them with a glass of water. He slumped onto the edge of the bed and sat with his elbows rested on his knees. He let the room spin around him.

Roy knocked gently on the door and Dick looked over at him. "You need anything?"

"No. Thanks, for tonight."

Roy shrugged. "I'm going to head out, probably swing by tomorrow."

"Sounds good." Dick rested his head in his hands.

"Call if you need anything."

Dick looked over at him. "Sure. See ya."

Roy turned and let himself out. Dick stretched out on the bed and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, a lot less time that he expected.

Roy just got to his car when his phone rang. "Hey, Tim."

"Did he get home okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

Tim hesitated.

"Tim?" Roy climbed into his car.

"I don't know, something's just off. After we got everything squared away tonight he sort of passed out or something. He was standing and then he was on his knees. He said he slipped, but." He took a breath to get control of the worry. "He's not all right."

"Thanks for calling. I'm heading home now, but I said I'd stop by tomorrow. You heard, about the case right?"

"Yeah." Tim spoke just above a whisper. "That'd mess anyone up."

"He'll be okay."

Tim took a breath. "Think I should let Bruce know? He's out of town, but…"

"I think he'd rather hear it from you than catch it in the news." Roy leaned back against the seat. "How's patrol going?"

"Uneventful now. Thanks, Roy."

"No problem. Talk to you later."

"Okay. Bye."

Roy closed his phone and started the car. He pulled away from the apartment building and couldn't help but wonder what was really going on with Dick. Tim's report and concern just confirmed Roy's suspicions that something wasn't right. Maybe tomorrow would look better for all of them, though with this rain, it was hard to tell.


	4. Consequences

Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

Dick surfaced from unconsciousness slowly. The first thing he noticed upon waking was how much he hurt, everywhere, like he had been hit by a bus and he was cold. He knew that being out in the rain couldn't really make anybody sick, but that morning he had to wonder. His head pounded and his throat felt like someone had taken sandpaper to it. His stomach still hurt and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, for the next year at least.

He glanced over at the clock and had to work to bring the numbers into focus. 9:37. That's the latest he'd slept in, well in practically his entire life. He shifted to try and ease the ache in his body and pulled the blankets up tighter to combat how cold he felt. He tried to remember why he felt so sick and then all of the horrors from the day before rushed over him. The patrol with Tim was fuzzy in detail, but the rest of the night stood out in perfect clarity. Reflexively he curled on his side and pressed his face into the pillow.

A soft knock at his door drew him from his misery and guilt. He uncurled and saw Roy standing hesitantly in the doorway.

"Hey." Dick sat up a little.

"You doing okay?"

He shrugged. "Sorta feel like crap."

"That's how you look." Roy smiled.

"Thanks." He sat up and coughed. The room spun a little as he stood.

"Do you need anything?"

Dick shook his head slightly. He passed Roy and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and regretfully shed his sweatshirt and pants, he shivered as he stepped under the spray.

The warm water didn't wake him up as much as he thought it would, actually it made him dizzier. He slid down the tile wall and sat with his knees drawn up as the water continued to pour over him. His stomach churned and he swallowed back nausea. He leaned forward and vomited bile. He spit and leaned back against the wall. After everything had stopped spinning, he slowly stood and turned off the water. He pulled his sweatpants back on and leaned against the counter.

He wiped away the layer of fog that covered the mirror. His pale reflection stared back at him. He noticed how his eyes were glassy and his cheeks flushed from fever, he noticed the dark shadows that underlined his eyes. Roy wasn't joking when he said that Dick looked about as good as he felt. He shaved just to pretend that everything was all right and pulled his sweatshirt back on.

Roy sat at the kitchen table with the paper open and a bowl of cereal in front of him.

"Don't you ever go home?" Dick smirked as he sat down.

"You have better food."

"You're eating rice crispies." He coughed and felt the pain rip through his chest and back from the force. He struggled to breathe.

They were both pretending that everything was okay and they both knew it. Roy stood and filled a glass of water. He set it in front of Dick. He gratefully took a few slow drinks and slumped in the chair.

"You look like you could use some more sleep." Roy glanced over the paper.

"I don't want to sleep." He muttered.

Dick had a suspicion that if he slept, he'd dream and he had a fairly good idea where his dreams would take him. Roy sighed and dumped two aspirins on the table.

"I don't want to take those." Dick's stomach churned at the thought.

Roy folded the paper. "Is there anything you do want to do?"

He glared at Roy and took another slow sip of water.

"Do you want anything to eat?" Roy saw what little color his friend had, drain from his face.

"No."

"You puke?"

Dick looked up at him. "I'm fine."

Roy leaned forward on the table. "It doesn't take a detective to figure out that you ended up with some sort of wicked cold, flu, fever combination. You can either take care of yourself, or I will do it for you."

"Are you threatening me?" He smiled a little.

"Yes."

"I can kick your ass, you know."

"Not now." Roy smiled, confidant and smug.

Dick stood and gripped the table to keep from falling. "Fine, I'll go back to bed." It probably wasn't such a bad idea anyway, he thought as he made his way down the hall.

He collapsed onto the bed and pulled the blankets up. He gave into the shivering and tried to ignore the pounding in his head. Maybe he should have tried to force the aspirins down, though as soon as he thought that, his stomach clenched painfully. He pulled his knees in towards his chest.

He didn't want to sleep, but he knew he couldn't fight it much longer. He struggled for an hour before he couldn't fight any longer. His dreams took him exactly where he feared they would.

Dick sat in the perp's apartment with the girl in his arms, his sweatshirt wrapped around her. They were the only ones in the room. She looked up at him, pain and fear spilled from her blue eyes.

He shifted and pulled her close. "You're going to be okay. Nobody will hurt you now." He whispered into her hair.

He felt her small fingers clutch his shirt and her warm tears on his neck.

"Why did it take you so long to come?" She whispered over her tears.

Dick's heart skipped a beat and something cold got stuck in his throat. "I'm sorry."

He then noticed her blood soaking through his shirt. He sat her back. Her eyes were closed and she was limp.

"Too late." She whispered. "Always too late."

She coughed and blood ran from her mouth and then she was still.

Dick woke with a start. His heart pounded and he coughed as he struggled to catch his breath. He realized that a cool hand rested on his fevered forehead and his fingers were tight around a smaller hand. He looked over and saw Barbara sitting on the edge of the bed.

She smiled when he turned to her. "Roy called me, said you were sick and wouldn't let him help you."

"And he figured I'd let you." His throat hurt like hell.

She brushed his sweat soaked hair back. "Something like that."

He rolled to his back and sat up against the pillows a little. She handed him a glass of water. His hands shook as he took a drink and passed the glass back.

"What was the nightmare about?"

He looked away.

"Roy told me about the case. It was about that, wasn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about that." His throat was tight, but not from being sick.

"You don't have to be all right, nobody said that you did."

He scoffed. "Perhaps you don't remember my upbringing."

She took his hand and pulled him into a hug that she knew he needed. He didn't pull away. She could feel the heat from his fever and his exhaustion. After a few minutes he pulled away and she let him.

"Here." She took his hand and dumped two pills into it.

Too exhausted to think, he popped them in his mouth and took a drink from the water she passed him again. She took the glass back and he slid under the covers. She held his hand as he fell asleep again. His grip didn't loosen as he slept, so she kept her hand in his.

Roy came in and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Thanks for coming."

"When my dad told me, I already planned to stop by." She sighed. "I wish he wouldn't blame himself."

"I think even he wishes that." Roy squeezed her shoulder.


	5. Isolation

Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

Roy left a few hours after Barbara arrived. He had some work to do, but also knew that if he was gone, Dick would drop his guard a little. As much as Barbara wanted to sit the bedside vigil, she made herself retreat to the living room. Dick wasn't a good patient, he had always been too stubborn.

Dick woke alone in his room. He knew he didn't feel any better, but couldn't tell if anything was worse or just the same. He shifted and untangled the blankets from his legs. Fragments of a nightmare drifted from his memory and for that, he was glad. He didn't want the images of those children pressed against his eyes.

_You did what you could._

Bruce had told him that, years ago.

_Learn from it, for next time, so you can save them._

What had he learned? He couldn't think of anything other than how his head pounded, how his stomach churned. Nausea pressed itself against his throat and he shoved the blankets aside. He staggered from the room and collapsed on the floor in the bathroom. His stomach tightened and he leaned over the toilet. There was nothing to come up and he didn't have the strength and energy to keep trying like he was.

He spit and curled on the floor, his arms wrapped around his chest in a last ditch attempt to stop the shivering. He wondered if he had hit his head recently, for it to be throbbing like that, blurring his vision with pain. He closed his eyes to it all.

A slight footstep in the hall made him open his eyes again. Barbara stood in the doorway, leaned against the doorframe with sympathy in her blue eyes.

"I'm okay." He muttered, his voice cracked.

"Sure." She almost smiled.

She came in and sat next to him on the floor. Her leg rested against his back and she could feel him shake. She gently rubbed his back and felt him relax some.

"I fucked up." He whispered.

"No, you didn't."

He sat up and leaned against the wall. "I did. Three kids, they died, because I failed."

She rested her hand on his forehead and worried slightly at the heat. "You didn't fail." She sighed and met his eyes. "Dick, the fact that you're so determined to beat yourself up about this proves that you didn't fail. Sometimes the bad guys win, that's why we do what we do."

He sighed and folded his arms across his stomach. "Yeah, right."

"Are you going to vomit again?"

He shrugged and closed his eyes.

"Let me help you back to bed, bathroom floors are never comfortable to sleep on."

"Because you'd know." He smiled slightly.

She stood and held out her hands. "Come on."

He let himself be pulled off the floor. He wavered as dizziness washed over him, he staggered back against the wall.

"You okay?"

He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Once the room stops spinning." He moaned quietly. "Okay, now I'm going to vomit again."

He slumped back to the floor and leaned heavily on the bowl as he retched. Barbara ran her fingers through his hair as he spit.

"Sorry." He whispered.

"I've seen you do worse." She passed him a glass of water. "Go to bed and you'll feel better."

He allowed himself to be guided from the floor and brought to bed. She pulled the blankets up over him and sat on the edge of the bed. He curled into the pillow.

"Do you need anything?"

He shook his head. "Thanks."

"Get some sleep. I'll be around." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

She stood and slipped out of the room. Dick was asleep within ten minutes.

Barbara's phone rang as she got to the living room. "Hello?"

Bruce's voice came through the other end. "I got a call from Tim, is he all right?"

"He's been better." She sat on the arm of a chair.

"I heard about the case." He sighed. "How's he handling it?"

"About like you'd expect and blaming himself for it all. He's been having nightmares."

"Tim said he was sick." She could hear the worry in his voice.

"Stomach flu, fever. He's not really keeping anything down." She heard Dick cough from his room and glanced down the hall.

"I'm going to stop over."

She smiled. "You don't have to, he'll be fine."

"I can be there in a few hours." His voice softened. "Call me if anything changes."

"I will. Travel safe."

"See you soon." He hung up the phone.

Barbara slipped her phone back into her pocket and went into the kitchen. She filled a glass with water and brought it into Dick's room. She set a couple aspirins next to the glass and pulled the trash can over next to the bed. He shifted and muttered something in his sleep. She brushed his damp hair away from his fevered forehead and he calmed. After a while she returned to the living room. Dick slipped into the horrors of a dream.

He was back at the apartment, just the way it was when he first entered. Everything happened quickly, the coroner came and placed the perp on a gurney and took him from the room. Suddenly Dick was left alone with the children that were killed. The door slammed shut behind him.

"It's your fault."

Dick turned to the voice. The boy sat up from the couch, blood ran from his mouth.

He stood and took Dick's hand and pulled him to the floor with surprising strength. "You killed me." He hissed in Dick's ear. "As evilly as that man did."

"I tried." Dick whispered.

"You knew and you did nothing."

The girl climbed from the couch and stood over Dick. "I cried for someone to save me. You protect people. Isn't that what you swore to do all those years ago?"

The girl that died in Dick's arms knelt in front of him. She cupped his face in her icy hands. "The only thing worse than losing your parents is losing your child. It's good that your parents aren't alive to know of this."

Dick felt guilt burn through him as he looked into the dead eyes of the children.

"It's your fault that innocence is gone, your fault that evil still plagues the world." The three spoke as one, their words surrounded and pulled Dick down.

Then there was only darkness and cold and pain.

Dick woke up with a start. His room was dark as evening took hold. Light rain blew against his window. His heart pounded in his ears and his stomach twisted. He shook and tried to shake the images from his mind. His fever had spiked as he slept, but he didn't know.

Suddenly the only thing he knew to do was to run. He struggled from the blankets that were twisted around his legs and fell to his hands and knees on the floor. He went to the window and shoved it open. He was weaker than he realized as he stumbled out onto the fire escape. He struggled up the stairs to the roof and fell onto its asphalt top. His hands burned from the contact, but he ignored it like he ignored the pounding in his head and the pain in his stomach.

Bruce was in the living room with Barbara. She had passed him a cup of coffee when he heard a dull thump from Dick's room. He set the coffee down and went down the hall. He turned on the light and saw the tangled blankets on the empty bed and the open window. Without hesitation he slipped through.


	6. Breaking Point

Still don't own Nightwing, or DC Comics. Not suing would be appreciated. I have no money, I promise, so please just let me use the brilliant characters.

Anyway, thanks for the reviews.

/\-n-/\

Bruce climbed the iron steps silently. On the roof he saw his son.

Dick stood with his forehead rested against the brick wall. The rain plastered his hair down and darkened his sweatshirt. Bruce stayed back, waited to see what Dick would do.

"I'm sorry." Dick's voice broke, he thought he was alone. "I'm sorry!" He punched the wall and ignored the pain it caused.

Bruce winced at the sharp sound of impact. Dick leaned heavily against the wall, his forehead rested on his arm. Blood ran from his hand and dripped onto the ground.

"I tried." He hit the wall again. "I'm sorry." He kept repeating those simple words in an attempt to make himself believe it, to stop the guilt that burned within him. With every word he punched the unforgiving brick.

Bruce rushed forward and wrapped his arms around his son, stopping him.

"Let me go." Dick was too weak to fight, but he still tried.

Dick sunk to his knees with Bruce's arms still around his own. Bruce could feel the heat of the fever and the shaking from exhaustion. Dick looked down at the blood that covered his hand and instantly remembered the girl's blood on his hands. He struggled to get away again.

"You're okay." Bruce's voice controlled. "You'll be all right."

Dick let the weariness take hold over what little strength he had left. "When did you get back?"

"Not too long ago."

"Who called you?" He coughed and struggled to draw breath for a few minutes.

"Let's go inside." Bruce stood and pulled Dick to his feet.

Dick was too tired to fight for independence and let himself be led from the roof. Bruce guided him down the stairs and through the window. Dick sat heavily on the edge of his bed. He shivered so hard that his breathing was shallow and ragged.

Bruce turned to Barbara in the doorway. "Something to clean up his hand and some water, please."

She stepped out. Bruce pulled a chair up and sat facing Dick. The young man's eyes were focused on the ground, his hands shook.

"I'm sorry, Dick." Bruce's voice was low.

"For what?" He whispered.

"I'm sorry that you couldn't save them."

Dick looked up for a moment and accidentally caught Bruce's eyes. "What do you know about it?"

Barbara came back into the room with the first aid kit and a glass of water.

"Thank you." Bruce smiled up at her.

Bruce carefully wiped the blood from Dick's hand. "I remember one case, I'll always remember this case." He taped up Dick's hand. "Two kids were taken by their father, he didn't have rights to see them."

Dick tired to pull away as the pain sharpened. Bruce held him still.

"The mother went on the news and personally asked me, well Batman, to find her children. I looked everywhere. Finally I found them in a warehouse by the docks. I was too late. He had killed himself and his children, locked them in the car and let it run."

Dick looked down at his hand and gently touched the tape. He wanted to run, but was too weary to move.

"It me took me along time to get through that. Their mother didn't blame me, and I couldn't understand how she couldn't." He took a breath. "I don't remember many of the people I save, but I remember every one I lost."

"She died while I was holding her." Dick whispered. "One of the kids in that apartment."

Bruce wasn't expecting that. He gripped Dick's wrists. "You can't save everyone, you've known that from the start, but you can try. You can't tear yourself apart, that's what all the evil in the world wants you to do."

"I can't make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

Dick looked up, agony spilled from his blue eyes. "Their voices when I sleep, their eyes begging me. I can feel their hands on my arms, their fear-" He took a shuddering breath.

"You didn't hurt them, Dick."

He stood suddenly, wavered. Bruce stood and took Dick's arm, he pulled away.

"But I didn't stop that man from hurting them." His words were hard, angry. "I'm no better than he is. No better than-"

Bruce grabbed Dick's arm and cupped his son's chin with the other hand. "You didn't stand idly by. You're one man trying to bring light to a city of darkness, and that is the most honorable thing you could ever try to do. You did everything in your power to save them, I don't doubt that for a second. I know that this is killing you, but you can't let it."

Dick stopped trying to fight. Bruce guided him back to the bed.

"When will it get easier?" Dick whispered.

"I can't give you a specific day, but it will. And next time, whether you're officer Grayson or Nightwing, you'll do everything that you can, because you always do."

"What if it's not enough?"

"Then you keep fighting until it is." Bruce gripped Dick's shoulder. "Don't let this stop you or break you, because then you will have let it win."

Dick nodded and Bruce could see his weariness. Bruce dumped out a few aspirins and placed them next to the glass of water.

"Take those and get some rest."

Dick did as he was told and pulled the blankets around himself. "Going back to the house?"

Bruce let a ghost of a smile appear. "Not right now."

"Good." He sighed and let sleep pull him under.

Bruce stood in the doorway for a few minutes. Barbara came up behind him and he glanced back at her.

"I'm glad you came." She whispered.

"I wish there was more I could tell him, but…"

"He just needed to hear it from you, he needed you to tell him that he'll be okay."

He turned to her. "Sometimes I wonder how any of us are strong enough for this."

She shrugged. "Because we have to be, we chose to be."

Bruce and Barbara retired to the living room and Dick slipped into the first dreamless sleep he'd had in days.

-/\-N-/\-

Dick woke hours later. His head felt clear for the first time since the case and he felt slightly better, weak, but better. He sat up and slipped out of bed. He appeared in the living room, Bruce and Barbara were halfway through a game of chess.

She looked up and smiled. "How are you feeling?"

Bruce turned.

"All right. Better." His voice was still rough, but his eyes met Bruce's. "You stayed. Thanks."

"How's your hand?" Bruce stood.

Dick glanced down. "Sorta hurts." He managed a smile.

Bruce inspected the injury. "That's why I usually stick to punching bad guys, brick walls just don't know when to give up."

"That's good advice." Dick coughed.

Bruce's phone rang and he checked the number.

"Go on." Dick smiled a little. "I'm all right, really."

"Back to work." Bruce grabbed his coat from the back of a chair. "Stop by the house for dinner tomorrow tonight, both of you. I'm sure Alfred would like to see you."

"Sure." Dick eased himself into a chair. "Good luck."

Bruce nodded once before he slipped out.

Barbara sat on the arm of the chair and rested her hand on Dick's forehead. "Fever's down. How about some tea and toast."

"That sounds great." She stood and went into the kitchen. "Thanks, for everything."

She leaned around the wall and smiled. "Anything for you. I'd call Roy and Tim, they were pretty worried."

"I will."

She ducked back into the kitchen. "So, you're really okay?"

Dick took a slow breath. "Getting there. I can at least see the light at the end, you know?"

Barbara smiled as she poured the tea and brought it in to him. "Yeah, I know."

She squeezed into the chair with him. He leaned into the touch some and she took his hand. He'd be all right, they both knew that now. There was no doubt that the case would always stay with him, but it wasn't crippling him and he could live with the idea that sometimes you can't save everyone. Sometimes you had to know when to let go of the dark things and when to hold on tighter to the bright ones.


End file.
